Mark of Snow
by Sakon76
Summary: Jamie Bennett has a mark on his chest. It's shaped like a snowflake. He's had it since he was ten. He doesn't think the person who gave him the mark even knows about it.
1. Chapter 1

**Mark of Snow**  
by K. Stonham  
first released 15th January 2013

Jamie Bennett had a mark on his chest. It wasn't a scar; when he ran fingers over it, the white flesh was smooth, not raised. It might have been a birthmark, but he hadn't had it until he was ten. It was roughly hexagonal, and when he'd been young it had only been the size of a half-dollar.

It looked, if it was examined closely, like a snowflake.

He kind of thought he knew when he'd gotten it, though he hadn't felt anything special at the time. He remembered an immortal teenager touching him gently on the breastbone, right where the mark was, telling him that since the Guardians were in his heart, Jamie was sort of a Guardian too. The chill of Jack's touch had seeped through Jamie's thin pyjama top, but he hadn't thought anything about it that day.

He didn't think Jack knew what he'd done. Heck, he didn't even think Jack knew he'd done anything! And whenever Jamie saw him, they were having too much fun sledding and building forts and conducting snowball wars against Captain Cupcake and her Boondocks Brigade. Jamie never remembered to ask.

But he remembered - all his friends remembered - standing in front of the Guardians that night, _defending them_ against what the Boogeyman was going to do.

And if Jamie could do that, he figured nothing else in life could be too hard.

So when, toward the end of sixth grade, he'd caught Moe and Terry intimidating Stacy Hollins, trying to extort her lunch money out of the littler girl, Jamie had stepped up to the plate.

And so had his friends.

There were nearly a dozen witnesses, and Moe and Terry getting two weeks' suspension had felt like a victory, well worth Jamie's bruises and the knocked-out bicuspid, one of the last of his baby teeth.

It was the tail end of May when Jamie tucked that tooth under his pillow, but when he woke up the next morning, his room was _freezing_. Under his pillow was a twenty-dollar bill, and a note in loopy florid handwriting that read,

_Dear Jamie,_

_Way to go! We're so proud of you. Have you considered reading up on Gandhi's non-violent protest methods?_

_Keep flossing!_

_Love,_  
_Tooth_

Jamie had grinned, the soreness in his jaw totally worth it. He kept the note in his pocket all day, and showed it to his friends, sparking a round of secret smiles between them.

That afternoon, he realized that he'd totally missed finding Jack's present. To be fair, it was clear, and had been left on the windowsill instead of under his pillow. Jamie had picked it up. The three-inch snowflake looked like it was spun of the finest glass, but it held a chill in it that hinted otherwise.

His free hand touched his chest, where the snowflake mark was.

He'd begged some string and a thumbtack from his mom, and hung Jack's snowflake in his window, where it would catch the sunlight.

* * *

It wasn't until Jamie was seventeen and soaked from a snowball fight, that Jack found out about the mark. The winter sprite stood inside Jamie's room, tapping the hanging snowflake with his staff, making it spin and throw refracted light all over the walls while Jamie stripped down to his briefs, which were the only dry thing on him. He found clean jeans and got into those first, then sat bare-chested on his bed, stuffing his freezing feet into dry socks.

"Jamie," Jack said, and there was something odd in the Guardian's voice that made Jamie stop and look up. Jack was staring at his chest. "What's that?"

Blinking, Jamie looked down, and realized Jack was looking at the snowflake mark, which he honestly forgot about most of the time. "Um," he said, brilliantly. "I think you gave it to me when I was ten. Same day you became a Guardian."

Jack stepped forward, knelt before the bed. He reached out, but stopped shy of touching Jamie's bare skin. "I don't even..." He looked up, blue eyes meeting Jamie's. "It feels like a little part of me. But I don't know how it got on you."

"In me, I think," Jamie said. "It... feels cool in the summer, and warm in the winter. I've kept forgetting to tell you about it." He looked at the mark. "It used to be smaller," he offered. "Like, half the size."

"Really." Jack hesitated for a moment more, then pressed his palm against the mark.

Frost shot out across Jamie's chest and shoulders, halfway down his arms. Jamie gasped.

"Sorry!" Jack had pulled his hand away, and was looking up at Jamie, wide-eyed and apologetic.

"It's... okay, I think." The frost felt cool, but not uncomfortable. Jamie shrugged a shoulder, testing. The design moved without cracking. He brushed at it with a hand; the pattern neither melted nor came away.

"Jack." Jamie glared at the winter spirit. "If this doesn't come off and I can't go swimming this summer, or change in the locker rooms because of it, we are going to have _words_."

Jack looked half sheepish and half mischievous.

"_No_," Jamie warned.

This mischief faded away, though there was now a hint of worry in the back of Jack's eyes. "I don't know what it is, Jamie." Jack pushed to his feet. "This has never happened to me... because of me, I mean, before. I've never even _heard_ of anything like this!"

Jamie shrugged and reached for a clean shirt, pulling it over his head. Hiding the frost that felt like a cool hug. "Well, it doesn't seem to have done me any harm yet."

"I guess not," Jack said, but his eyes were still troubled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Mark of Snow 2**  
by K. Stonham  
first released 17th January 2013

The winter Jamie was nineteen, he had managed to save up enough to go on a ski weekend with some of his college friends. He was pretty good at cross-country skiing, but skiing on slopes was a whole different matter. He had fun, though. All of them did.

Up until the point when they realized they were lost, and it was getting dark, and fresh snow was starting to fall.

Jamie panicked for a minute. He didn't have enough gear. None of them did! They were going to freeze to death overnight, and it wasn't going to be ironic, just tragic.

_Jack,_ he thought, wishing for the winter spirit who'd always watched over him in this season.

But Jack wasn't here, and Jamie was.

The snowflake in his chest was warm, and that calmed him. "Right," Jamie said, and unstrapped himself from the skis. He started stomping around in a circle, compacting the snow.

"Jamie, what are you _doing_?" Ron asked, staring at him.

"I," Jamie said, "am building a shelter. You guys can either help, or panic. But helping would get it done faster."

Like his words were a magic charm, one after another the others got out of their skis and started packing snow. There were probably tricks and refinements to igloo construction, but none of them knew them. Most of them were from areas where it snowed during the winter, however, and were old hands at snow forts. "Spiral," said Tracy. "Keystone construction." She had a grin as she laid snow bricks.

It was almost full dark by the time the capstone was laid, and when they all crowded inside, it was pitch black. Someone shivered. "I wish I had my lighter," Tom's voice said in the dark.

"Who needs a lighter?" Beth asked. "We can keep each other awake telling scary stories."

Jamie shook his head. Even before meeting the Boogeyman, he'd never loved the horror genre. "I think we're all scared enough, Beth. Maybe fun stories would be better."

"You got one?" Ron asked.

"Heh." Jamie laughed, his hand touching his chest. "Do I ever. When I was ten, I met the spirit of winter. Jack Frost."

By the time he finished recounting the story of the events around that Easter, the igloo felt marginally warmer. And so, he imagined, did everyone's spirits.

"Awesome story," Tom said.

Beth's voice was a little more cautious. "Jamie, you don't really believe all that happened... do you?"

Jamie smiled into the dark. "Of course I do. I see Jack every winter. You can think I'm crazy if you want, but it's not going to change what I know to be true."

That, unfortunately, proved to be kind of a conversation killer. "Come on, guys," Ron said. "It's late. No one's going to be looking for us at this hour. Let's all just try to get some sleep."

Murmurs of agreement came around. Jamie ended up lying down, his back to the warmer huddle inside the structure, facing the entrance tunnel. He was cold, and his stomach was pointedly reminding him that he hadn't had supper, but somehow he wasn't worried. He tucked one gloved hand under his behatted head, and let the other rest on his chest. Over the warmth of the snow mark.

He woke some time later to cold fingers nipping at his nose. "Psst, Jamie."

He blinked his way awake. The interior of the igloo was glowing a bright, pale blue. But better than the light was the white-haired figure it revealed, crouching and holding his shepherd's crook and smiling like he'd just won a prize.

"Jack?" Jamie said groggily, pushing upright.

"Sorry it took me so long to get here," Jack apologized. "I was over in Pakistan when you called."

"Called?" Jamie rubbed at his eyes, trying to wake up enough to make the winter spirit make sense.

"Yeah." A pale finger poked at Jamie's chest, at the snow mark over his heart. "You called. I came."

"Oh. So that's what it's for?"

Jack nodded. "Among other things. We can officially dub you 'the boy who will never freeze'."

"...I am not awake enough for this conversation," Jamie decided.

"Mm? Jamie, who're you talking to?" Tracy mumbled.

Jack raised an eyebrow. Jamie grinned. "Jack Frost," he said.

"That's nice." Her eyes fluttered open, then closed. Then open again as she shot upright, eyes flickering about the now-lit igloo. "What the fuck?!"

Her screech woke the others. "What?" and "What's going on?" and "Tracy?" tumbled over one another.

"Why is it glowing?" Tracy demanded. "Snow isn't bioluminescent!"

Jamie and Jack exchanged a smile. "Jack Frost," Jamie explained simply.

"So, you want to head back to your resort thingy?" Jack asked.

Jamie straightened up. "It's snowing out," he said, ignoring the others.

"Storm blew away in the last hour. Imagine that." Jack gave a sly grin. "The moon's full, and you're less than a mile from the place, if you feel up to a moonlit ski."

"I'm in," Jamie said, and headed toward the tunnel.

"Jamie, where are you going?"

He stopped and looked back at Ron. "I'm following my friend back to the resort. You guys can come with, or if you want to stay, I'll lead the search party here in the morning."

"You're crazy," said Beth.

"The best kind," Jack agreed, unheard by her, and led the way out of the low tunnel, leaving the igloo in darkness behind them.

Jamie heard yelps, and grinned as he heard the others scurrying after them.

He followed Jack, and the others followed him, and the mutterings about Jamie's dubious sanity cut out around the time they all came in view of the golden lights of the resort. When they were just at the patio, Jamie unstrapped himself from his skis.

The others were staring at him. "You're really not crazy, are you?" Beth asked.

"Never said I was." Jamie set his skis on a bench.

"There really is a Jack Frost?" asked Ron, who had lived in SoCal all his life up until college.

"Yup." Jamie popped the "p" sound, pleased with himself.

From behind the group, Jack stared at him. "Jamie, what're you doing?"

"Getting you some new believers," Jamie replied.

The other four turned to see what Jamie was looking at. He enjoyed, more than he should have, the way their eyes all went wide. The way Jack flinched at the sudden attention, however, wasn't quite as amusing.

"You're... Jack Frost?" Tracy asked.

"Ah, yeah," Jack replied.

"Wow," Beth, a Comparative Religions major, breathed.

Tom swallowed. "Thanks for the rescue."

"You'd've gotten back here fine in the morning," Jack said. His eyes flickered to Jamie. "I just expedited things." He pulled up his hood with a nod. "Anyhow, I better go. Montana needs some snow."

Jamie, who had been anticipating his retreat, scooped up a handful of snow and packed it even as Jack turned and took that little hop-step that meant he was going into the air.

The snowball nailed Jack perfectly between the shoulderblades.

He spun, wide-eyed, tearing his hood back down. "What was that for?" he demanded.

"You're many things," Jamie told him, "but a coward isn't one of them."

Jack took that. Absorbed it. And then a smile stretched across his mouth. "Well, if you're going to be like that, Jamie..."

Jamie laughed as the snowball hit him.

Within minutes, it was a six-way snowball fight.

Half an hour later, laughing and high on endorphins, they all tromped into the resort lobby, where five of them were greeted with enthusiastic relief by the staff. Jamie and Beth made for the hot chocolate machines, drawing six cups while Tom and Tracy explained the evening's events, leaving out any supernatural assistance. Ron beelined for the fireplace, Jack following amusedly behind.

Eventually, they were left alone to wind down and warm up.

Jamie passed Jack his mug. He snickered as the others stared at the frost creeping across the pottery, the steam instantly vanishing. Jack smacked his shoulder. "Stop that."

"Never."

"You really have known each other since you were ten," Tracy said.

"Yeah." Jack slurped at his cold chocolate. His eyebrows went up; he regarded the cup with surprise. "Almost as good as North's."

"North?" asked Beth.

"Santa Claus," Jamie told her.

Ron and Tom exchanged a wide-eyed glance. "Wait, you mean Santa's _real_?" Tom asked.

Jack shrugged. "Pretty much every one of us you've ever heard of is real."

"Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Sandman..." Jamie listed.

"Holy shit." After a moment, though, Ron's gaze focused on Jamie. "So why do you get special dispensation, man?"

Jack snickered. "Jamie's speeeecial," he sing-songed. Jamie shoved at him; it didn't break the winter spirit's grin.

"Special how?" Beth asked.

Jack sipped at his drink again. "Jamie was the last light, the last believer. And _my_ first believer. So he gets all kind of favors."

Tom was staring. "Wait, you mean that story you told us -"

"Absolute truth, every word of it," Jamie said.

"Holy shit," said Tracy, and apparently Jamie was perfecting the art of conversation-killing, because it died after that.

Eventually, Beth yawned.

"We should get to bed," said Tom. "It's, like, half past three. And it's not even finals week."

"You guys go ahead," said Jamie, waving them off. "I'll be up in a bit."

"Don't wake me," said Tom, standing. He paused, looking at Jack. "Um, thanks for coming to rescue us."

Jack just shrugged and smiled. "Like I said, you'd've been fine by yourselves."

"It's been nice meeting you," said Beth, staring a little again. Jamie practically could see the cogs in her head turning, trying to figure out how the world really worked. He wondered if he was going to get pounced next term and used as a source for her papers. "Will we see you again?"

"Sure." Jack nodded at Jamie. "I visit him all the time."

With more good-nights and lingering glances back at the pair of them, Jamie's school friends eventually went back to their rooms.

"They seem like good people," Jack commented.

"Oh, they are. I wouldn't be out here with them if they weren't."

"Heh. Which reminds me, now they're gone, I wanted to try something." Jack took Jamie's mug out of his hands, set it down by his own. "Give."

Raising an eyebrow, Jamie held his hand out, palm-to-palm with Jack's.

Jack's dark eyebrows knitted together. Slowly, he moved his hand back -

- gently _pulling_ something inside Jamie, a weird twisting sensation connected to the snowflake in Jamie's chest. Jamie gasped, eyes flying wide as his other hand fisted against his chest.

Blue flickering light, and a sense of cold, flared out a few inches from his hand, reaching toward Jack.

Jack stopped, letting go, yanking his hand back. The connection snapped.

"Wh-what was that?" Jamie asked.

Jack was looking at him, blue eyes concerned. "Did it hurt?"

Jamie considered, then shook his head. "Not... _hurt,_ It just felt kind of like... kind of like pulling taffy, I guess." He could still feel the sensation down his arm, a tingling entirely different than pins and needles.

"Not hurting is good." Jack picked up Jamie's mug, handed it back to him, took up his own again. "Gives me a reference point for where to go in North's books for some more research."

"Research?"

Jack smirked. "What do you think I've been doing the last couple summers?"

"You. And books," Jamie said flatly.

"Laugh it up, college boy. You're not the only one who can read."

"But... why?"

Jack shrugged. "I want to find out what that," he said with a gesture of his elbow toward Jamie's chest, "can do. Before we both end up in trouble because of it."

Jamie paused, a thousand bad scenarios flashing through his mind. "Pitch isn't back, is he?"

"Nope." Jack slurped more cold chocolate. "Doesn't mean he's the only one out there, though."

"Oh." Jamie stared into the fireplace for a while, until Jack nearly pushed him over.

"Come on, kiddo. You're falling asleep on your feet. And I really do need to hit Montana before dawn."

Jamie sighed, and pushed up, gathering abandoned cups to return to the drinks station. "You're right. Talk more later?"

"Definitely."

Jamie paused before heading back to his room. "Jack?"

The spirit paused.

Jamie smiled. "Thanks for looking after me."

Jack grinned. "Like I said, you're special, Jamie. In more ways than one."


	3. Chapter 3

**Mark of Snow 3**  
by K. Stonham  
first released 19th January 2013

The summer Jamie turned twenty, two weeks after his birthday, Jack took him to the one place all children wish to see: Santa's Workshop. It was a week-long visit. Jamie had told his mom that he would be on a hiking trip with his college friends.

Sophie, who despite being thirteen still _believed_, was incredibly jealous. To appease her teenage feminine wrath, Jack gave Sophie the promise of a trip to Bunny's Warren at a to-be-determined-later date. Jamie teased him about falling into the Guardian habit of bribing kids. Jack shoved Jamie, grinning all the while. Sophie, practical, simply pounced on the offer and wrote it out in red Sharpie on a piece of notebook paper. She made Jack sign and date it, then promptly hid the document away somewhere in her room. Jamie knew she wasn't going to forget about it, or let Jack forget either. He suspected his sister was going to be a lawyer someday.

Jack waited until Jamie's mom had gone to work that Monday, then arrived at Jamie's windowsill. Jamie was waiting, his backpack with a week's clothing and toiletries, together with his sketchbook and a plethora of pencils, all ready to go.

"So, flying or snow globe?" Jack asked.

Jamie never turned down the chance to fly with Jack if it was offered, but for once he'd thought ahead and googled the distance. If North's Workshop was anywhere near the Pole itself, it was nearly 3,400 miles from Burgess. "How long would it take to fly it?"

Jack shrugged. "A couple hours."

Jamie did quick math in his head, and manfully resisted the urge to gape. "You can do Mach 2?"

Jack looked blank. "No idea what that is. But I do loop-de-loops around commercial airplanes sometimes, if that helps?"

It was in Jamie's head to say that Jack was insane, but, really, what was the point? From a spirit's point of view, Jack was perfectly sane. He could pull off stunts like that without a second thought. "Flying," Jamie decided, and shrugged on his coat, and then his backpack.

Jack grinned. "Excellent choice."

"Do I get peanuts and a magazine?" Jamie quipped, stepping up onto his windowsill next to the winter spirit.

"No, but we do have a lovely in-flight movie, a panoramic documentary about the wilds of Canada." Jack's fingers laced with Jamie's. Jamie imagined Jack's magic field extending to include him. "Ready?"

"One, two," Jamie counted. On "Three!" they jumped together, and gravity stopped mattering.

"Whooo!" Jamie yelled in pure adrenaline appreciation as they soared upward. His shout mingled with Jack's delighted laughter.

Behind and below them, Sophie entered her brother's room, noted that he'd already left, and closed the window.

* * *

Jack's magic didn't make Jamie invisible, but it did cocoon him whenever he took Jamie for a flight. Which meant that the thousand-mile-per-hour-plus speeds didn't register, nor did the freezing cold. Jack was mindful of this effect and didn't let go of Jamie's hand when they arrived at the Workshop. Jamie's coat might've been okay for a Burgess winter, but the northern latitudes were something else. Jack rapped on the door with his staff, causing a frost pattern to bloom on the wood.

Phil opened the door, and lit up on seeing Jamie. He snatched the young man into a hug, leaving Jack to complain, "Hey, what about me? Am I chopped liver, here?"

Apparently Jack was. Rolling his eyes, he stepped inside and shut the door behind himself. Phil had put Jamie down and was now questioning him in Yetish, asking about his health and his schooling and how the trip went. Jamie was keeping up with the inquiries quite well, though his replies were in English. But that was okay; Phil was multilingual.

Phil walked as he talked, and in short order had led them into the globe room. Jamie actually stopped and stared, mouth dropping open. Jack leaned on his staff and smiled, enjoying watching his friend be caught flat-footed. Eventually a "Wow," came out of Jamie's mouth as he craned his neck, trying to take everything, on all the levels, in.

In a lot of ways, Jack thought, Jamie really never had grown up past age ten. There was always that spark of childhood in him, flaring brighter at times. It was probably part of the reason he was still able to see the Guardians at age twenty, when most others couldn't.

Jack was so glad Jamie had that gift.

"Everything you thought it'd be?" Jack asked softly.

Jamie nodded, still wide-eyed. "And more," he said.

Jack exchanged a pleased look with Phil. Phil gruffled, then moved off to his own business, leaving Jamie with Jack again. "Come on," Jack said, "I'll show you where you're staying, and you can drop off your stuff. You can gawk all you want later."

"I'm not gawking," Jamie protested as Jack led him to the elevators.

"You totally were."

"Was not!"

* * *

"Oh, wow, this is nice." Jamie took in the cozy room, paneled in golden wood. A fire snapped in one corner, and there were huge windows showing the Arctic expanses outside. Colorful rag rugs warmed the floor, a quilt-covered bed nestled in one corner, and the huge bureau (yeti-carved; Jamie would put money on it) matched the bedstead. "I feel like I'm staying in a four-star hotel."

"North does things up right," Jack agreed.

Jamie turned to look at him. "Where's your room?"

Jack knocked on the wall the bed stood against. "Right next door. It's a little different than yours."

"Really?" Jamie dropped his backpack by the bed and shrugged his coat off. "Can I see?"

Jack shrugged. "Sure." He turned from where he stood in the doorway, hopped over an elf, and led the way. Jamie followed.

When he stepped into Jack's room, he saw what the winter spirit had meant. This room was cold, its non-adjoining walls carved from snow. And it didn't have windows to the cold world outside; it had French doors. There was still a fireplace, though it was unlit, but where Jamie's room had rugs and quilts in shades of green and red and brown, Jack's decor was all blue-silver-white. There were snowflakes carved into all the furniture, and Jamie glimpsed a row of blue hoodies hanging in the wardrobe. "Did North go a little overboard?"

Jack shrugged. "Maybe. It works for me. When I'm here, anyway. I always liked blue, even before I was Jack Frost." He turned back to Jamie. "Anyhow, want to go see the Big Man?"

"Sure."

* * *

North's workroom made Jamie's inner ten-year-old squeal in glee again. There were ice models of racecars, and swords, and robots, and bicycles, and and and!

"Jamie!" boomed North, his arms open wide. "So good to see you! Tell me, how is college?"

Jamie grinned. "So far, so good. Passed all my classes."

"Passing is not good enough," North mock-scolded. "You, we expect to excel!"

"Three As and one B, this term," Jack, toying with a model jet, tattled.

"Well," said North, crossing his arms, "will have to do." But he was grinning, so Jamie didn't think he'd been displeased about the B any more than Jamie's mom had been. North's expression sobered, though, as he looked at Jamie. "So. You know why you are here?"

Jamie nodded. "Jack wants you to take a look at my snow mark."

"Soonest began, soonest finished." North tilted his head to one side. "Are you ready now?"

Jamie blinked. "Um, sure."

In short order, the worktable was cleared, some of the ice sculptures handed out the door to yetis, others put on shelves for presumed later refinements. "Up!" said North. "And removing shirt."

"I feel like I'm in a doctor's office," Jamie said, obeying.

"Is that what happens in those?" asked Jack.

"Usually." North had gone into an adjoining room and there were thumps and crashes going on. "Do I want to know what he's looking for?"

"Your guess," said Jack, "is as good as mine."

"Haha!" North reappeared a second later, brandishing something that looked like a silver spider with too many legs. "Hold still," he told Jamie, and put it on his head.

Jamie froze, eyes widening, as the machine came to life. It massaged his head with its pinprick legs.

("Phrenology? Seriously?" Jack asked North.

"Shh, it works," North replied.)

Then the spider crept forward. It probed Jamie's ears and nostrils. It pried open his mouth and took soundings there. Forcing his eyelids wide, it shone light into each pupil. It measured his ears, neck, and shoulders. It poked two or three times at the snowflake mark. Then it jumped down into his lap, measured his waist, whirred for a moment, and broke.

A thin column of black smoke poured from the top of its tiny head. Jamie stared, mouth open.

"Bah, cheap southern work!" North stepped closer, snatching the spider-bot up. He flicked a finger at the side of its head. The machine's blue eyes came back to life. It chittered once at North, spat forth a stream of ticker tape, jumped from his hand, and scuttled back to the storage room.

Jamie raised an eyebrow at Jack, who just shrugged, looking as clueless as Jamie felt.

North, meanwhile, was reading the ticker tape. "Hmm, good, good," he muttered. "Oh, very curious, that..." His blue eyes considered Jamie for a second, then dropped back to the tape. After he came to the end of it, he was silent for a long moment.

"Well?" Jack asked eventually.

"Is strange news. Not entirely unexpected, though, now that I think on it."

"What news?" asked Jamie.

North leaned close. "This mark," he said, finger just touching the snowflake, "you got it day Jack became Guardian, yes?"

Jamie nodded.

"Is curious mix of magic. Is little bit snow magic, little bit Guardian magic." He looked at Jack. "You told Jamie he was sort of Guardian too, right?"

"Yeah." Jack's forehead furrowed. "So what?"

North smiled. "You should be more careful, when telling children truths." He looked back at Jamie. "At that minute, maybe, Jack could have pulled magic back out of you. Now?" He shook his head. "Is not his anymore. Or, I should say, not wholly his."

"What's the rest of it?" Jamie asked.

"That, you will have to find out."

"That's not very helpful, North."

"Is not meant to be helpful, Jack. What Jamie has done to your bit of magic is all his own. Is dependent on _his_ center."

"My center?" asked Jamie.

"His center?" asked Jack.

"Of course!" North boomed. "Surely you do not think Guardians, or spirits, are only beings with centers? No, Jamie has center. And it has shaped this magic into something new. Something little bit cold, little bit Guardian, little bit him. Is unique," North said, with an affectionate look, "just like everyone else's."

Ignoring the contradiction in North's statement, Jamie swallowed. Thought about the way, for half his life, he'd stood up for weaker, smaller kids without a blink. "Did this... make me the way I am?" He looked up at North. "Is this why I stepped into the middle of all those fights?"

North looked taken aback. "No! Remember, you stood up for _us_, before you ever had this! You defied Pitch!" He touched the mark again, gently. "If you did not already have Guardian traits in you, Jamie Bennett, this would have withered. It did not change who you are. Gifted magic never does. It only enhances what is important to you."

That... was a relief. Jamie breathed out slowly.

"So the question is, what is your center?" Jack asked quietly. "That's the other part to that. The part we don't know."

"I... don't know," Jamie said.

"Is something only you can find out," North told him. "But is very important. It may take time."

Jamie nodded, and reached for his shirt.

He'd come to the North Pole for answers, and though he hadn't left yet, he was coming away with more questions.


	4. Chapter 4

**Mark of Snow 4**  
by K. Stonham  
first released 1st February 2013

The Guardians, Jamie thought, ensconced in a corner of the Workshop with his sketchbook on his knees and his pencils by his side, were really powerful. Jack, with his control of winter, was the most obvious, but the others weren't sneeze-worthy either. Particularly not Sandman. You wouldn't think dreams would be so powerful, but Jamie had seen the way Sandy could shape his sand into, quite literally, anything he could imagine. Tooth, North, and Bunny were different; their powers were subtler, their magic giving them command of vast resources. But none of the five could be described as a lackluster warrior.

Jamie selected a new pencil and continued his shading.

The thing was, though, they had a collective weakness. If enough kids stopped believing in them, they lost all that. Even, presumably, Jack, who'd been fine the last time it had happened. But then, he hadn't formally been a Guardian during that battle against Pitch Black.

Jamie glanced up, double-checking his perspective, then went back to work.

So the Guardians were supported by human belief. Specifically by children's belief. But at twenty, Jamie didn't really qualify as a child anymore. Yet Jack had flown him up atop the huge globe to show him the glowing golden light that was himself, a currently lonely speck in the middle of the otherwise unlit Arctic circle.

"I don't think you _can_ stop seeing us," Jack had confided, unusually serious. His gaze had flickered briefly to Jamie's chest, then back to his face. "I think that bit of magic -" He stopped, then started again. "I think I screwed up your life," he said softly, "and I'm sorry."

Jamie took a moment to sort through the sudden tangle of confused thought. Was he supposed to be hurt that Jack thought Jamie should grow up and stop seeing him? Or angry that Jack had done something like this to him? Was he supposed to mourn for the sudden realization of _I'm never going to be normal?_

_But I don't actually want any of that,_ Jamie knew. _I never did._

Jamie drew a long, slow breath, trying to, heh, find his center.

"Did you try to screw up my life on purpose?" he asked.

"No!"

"Then what are you being sorry for?"

That stymied Jack. Jamie dredged up a smile. It felt thin, but also honest. "I know normal people," he said. "And they're great, some of them. But you know the kind of books I read, Jack. The kind of research I do. I never wanted a boring world. I never wanted a nine-to-five. So maybe it's not going to be as easy as if I was like everyone else. But if being normal means losing my belief in magic? If it means losing my best friend?" Jamie shook his head. "I'm not interested." And that was truth.

Still, though, finding that Jack's unconscious gift had changed the course of his life _that much_... Jamie was still trying to work through it.

_I'm never going to stop believing._

_I don't want to stop believing. So why is this a problem?_

Jamie sighed and lowered his pencil, looking out into the bustling Workshop. Watching without seeing.

_What do I want to do with this? What do I want to do with my **life**?_

Jack wanted to spend his life having fun, and sharing that with others. That was his center. North wanted to spend his life filling the world with wonder. That was his center. Sandy wanted to inspire dreams, Bunny wanted to give hope, Tooth wanted to protect precious memories...

Those were all their centers. What they wanted to spend their lives doing.

What was Jamie's?

_I want to help the Guardians._ Magic in him or not, Jamie didn't think he qualified to actually be a Guardian. Though, he supposed, neither had all of them, once upon a time... Anyhow, it was a moot point. Either the Moon would choose him someday, or he wouldn't. It was nothing Jamie could control or influence. But in lieu of that childhood desire, what did he want to do?

_I want to get more people to believe._ And he could do that. He _had_ done it, not just once, but several times.

_I want to protect the Guardians._

Well, it wasn't much to go on. But it was a start at finding his center. Jamie picked up his pencil, decided he needed another color, and rummaged through his cup for the right blue.

* * *

"What's he doing?" Jack asked quietly, looking across the way to where Jamie sat against the wall, his sketchbook propped on his bent legs.

"Having existential crisis, I think," North replied quietly.

Jack stared at the older Guardian. "Having a what?"

"'Who am I?'" North said dramatically. "'Why am I here? What is my purpose?'" He looked at Jack. "Finding center involves turning self upside down, rummaging around like through luggage, looking for last pair of clean socks."

"I know _that_," Jack reminded him. "But why's it so different for him than it was for me? I mean, he's got time. There's no emergency going on."

North shrugged. "Jamie is different person than you. And this week, we have completely changed his view of who he is. What he is! He needs to sort things through for himself."

"Changed...?" Jack asked. "He's known about that mark for years."

"Known about, yes. Known what it is?" North shook his head. "There are words for humans with magic, Jack. They have not been used seriously for long time."

"Words?"

Blue eyes met blue. "Sorceror. Wizard. _Magician_."

Jack laughed. "You mean like Merlin?"

North's eyes widened, his fingers absently stroking his beard. "Now there is thought, to train Jamie... no, no," he decided. "Emrys is sleeping under Britain, along with rest of Camelot. He will not wake, even for this."

Jack stared. "Wait, you mean Merlin and Arthur and them are _real_?"

"Very real, Jack."

"Wow..."

* * *

The Tooth Fairy descended upon the North Pole like a multi-colored iridescent force of nature. Within minutes of her arrival she was checking all the yetis' teeth, commenting on the adorableness of the newest dollhouse design, and batting her lashes shamelessly for a copy of the plans. Her fairies delightedly investigated the house, which was, indeed, perfectly scaled to them.

Jack bit back a snicker.

"Jack!" She made for him like a shot. Knowing the routine, he opened his mouth for her. She sparkled and glitter and fluttered as she checked his snowy teeth. "You've been flossing!" she said delightedly.

He grinned. "Not a once."

Tooth looked even more delighted at this admission.

"Tooth Fairy!" North boomed. "What brings you to my home?"

"Teeth," Toothiana demanded first, staring at his mouth.

North rolled his eyes good-naturedly and patiently underwent the inspection. When it was done, Tooth glared at him. "Less sweets," she demanded of him, "and more mouthwash."

"Yes, yes," North dismissed, as he always did. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Tooth, it turned out, had come to beg North to put some kind of toothpaste in children's stockings. "Something minty, or glittery, to get them brushing!" she explained. "There's a rash of plaque going across North America," she wailed, "and cavities are up thirty-three percent in Europe this year alone!"

North patted her on the shoulder. "There, there, Toothy. You let me take thought on this. Will be something we can do to turn this around." He handed her a mug of sugar-free hot chocolate. "Meanwhile, you sit, relax a little. Mini Tooth Fairies can handle collection for a few hours. Besides, Jamie Bennett is visiting, and he will love to see you." North winked. "Probably sketch you too, if way he has been glued to notebook and pencils is any indication."

Tooth straightened up as North left. "Jamie's here?" she asked Jack. "Why?"

Jack sighed, rubbed the back of his head. "It's complicated..."

"_Jack_."

"I accidentally stuck a piece of my magic in him, years ago, and it's had some weird effects. North thought he could maybe be some help, so I dragged Jamie up here." Jack grinned briefly. "Not that Jamie really objected, mind you..."

"Jack, he's twenty!"

Jack sighed and flopped into an armchair. "Yeah, that's one of the side effects. He's never going to stop believing."

Tooth paused. "I would have thought that would make you happy, not losing him."

Jack looked at her. "The magic's growing, Tooth, changing. Changing him. I can feel it. And no one knows what it's going to grow into. That kinda worries me."

"The Guardian of Fun, worried?" she teased. But then her expression sobered. "You should have faith, Jack," she told him. "Jamie's a pure soul. He always has been. Whatever the magic grows into... it will be a force for good."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

Jamie didn't expect to get tackle-glomped by a fairy, but then he was at the North Pole. Normal expectations went right out the window.

"Teeth!" the Tooth Fairy demanded, her fingers hovering in front of Jamie's mouth.

Beyond her, Jack snickered. "It's easiest just to give in."

"I feel like a horse," Jamie complained, but obliged, opening wide.

Toothiana's small fingers gave a brief but thorough exploration of his mouth. She beamed up at him. "You've been flossing!"

"Daily. I live in fear of your retribution," Jamie joked.

Toothiana blinked, then burst out giggling. She hugged him again. "It's so _good_ to see you, Jamie!" She led him to the set of armchairs all positioned together in front of the fireplace.

Jamie had nearly filled his sketchbook, and at Tooth's demand, shared its contents with them. Pages were filled with drawings of the globe, the elves eating cookies, the yetis hard at work, the sleigh, the nearly feral reindeer that pulled it, North's private workroom, and, of course, drawings of North and Jack themselves.

"Pretty good," Jack said, around the oatmeal-raisin cookie in his mouth. He took it out and angled the sketchbook toward North. "What do you think?"

North beamed with pride. "Is excellent picture of Phil! You got his eyes just right." His own eyes slid to Jamie. "This, is talent."

"That," Jamie countered, "is years of art classes."

"Takes talent too," North replied. "So. You have plans for these?"

"Plans?" Jamie asked blankly.

"Talent shouldn't be hidden!" Tooth expounded. "It should be shared with the world! Otherwise, what is it for? Like Jack and trouble," she said slyly. Jamie laughed.

"Hey!" the winter sprite objected.

Still chuckling, Jamie smiled. "Emily Dickinson."

Tooth stopped, looked blank. "Who?"

Jamie sighed. "An American writer of the 1800s. She wrote her poetry for herself, and only became famous when her notebooks were published posthumously. She's considered one of the premiere American poets."

Jack looked carefully neutral. North looked aghast. "You do not intend to share your art with the world?"

Jamie took his sketchbook back. "Maybe. My point is, art can exist for its own sake. For what it changes in _me_, rather than what it changes in the world."

Jack straightened up, leaned forward. "Is that really what you want to do with that?" His fingers flickered toward the book.

Jamie flipped a page, ended up looking at Jack taunting a trio of elves. He'd been floating midair, dangling a chocolate chip cookie just out of their reach. Jamie thought he'd captured his friend's smirk _perfectly_.

He wanted the world to know who Jack was. Who all the Guardians were. So that they would never be in danger of being forgotten again.

What better way, something in Jamie whispered, than to show the world who they really were?

"You know," he heard himself say, and was surprised to realize he meant it, "Maybe I could make a book out of these."

The Tooth Fairy beamed.

* * *

**Author's Note:** At this point, I've read all the books. And concluded the movie universe is just different enough that I feel they can't be the same. So please, no one scream at me about North being a wizard, or about Ombric, or about anything. I'll be taking elements of what a magician is from the books, but just that: elements.


End file.
